Dead men tell no tales, do they?
by Onmoraki
Summary: He was forced to dip his hands in blood, but he got addicted. With one wrong move, all that he loved, was ripped away from him. Found and saved by a teal haired Atzec. He swears to get revenge. But he can't do that alone now could he? A world filled with weird culture, robbers and sheriffs, will he ever get his revenge? Or maybe he will find new love? [[Westernish fantasy AU]]


.oOo.

 _Times were poor, it was when women had no value.  
Children getting married off at young age, so the family would get their share of land and money.  
Times when people lived in fear._

 _They were people, who would hide in their homes._  
 _Then those who dipped their hands in blood._  
 _And those who lived freely, but were feared._

 _I was the one who got forced to dip his hands in blood, but once I tasted it, I couldn't stop spilling it.  
If I hadn't done it, I wouldn't be here now.  
And the people near me wouldn't have died._

 _But thanks to that, I am here now.  
I don't hate my decisions, nor do I like them._

 _But sometimes you just have to ask the dead to point the direction._

.oOo.

My eyes snap open when I hear rustles and footsteps in front of me. The last thing I remember, was getting into bed with my beloved wife. But I definitely wasn't lying in bed now. Feeling how I was unable to move, my arms tied above my head, standing. Feeling how the wind blew past me, so I was outside huh.

My vision is greeted by the starless night, and a man standing in front of me, blowing smoke from his cigar on my face.

"Good morning sunshine." the man purrs out smoothly.

I growl recognizing the voice coming out from the disgusting scumbag standing in front of me.

"Haizaki…" I answer in return.

His smirk widens when he hears my raspy voice. He swings his arm, a branding iron was held in his hand.

"Isn't the sunshine beautiful…" Haizaki smirks.

I can only see dim light in front of me. But there was a disturbing crackling sound.

"… 2am in the morning." Haizaki finishes his sentence. Only now I understand it wasn't the sunrise, my house was burning. My ears seemed to welcome more noise, screaming. My wife and child screaming for help inside the house behind locked doors.

"Please, let them go, they did nothing wrong!" I felt my eyes water.

"You should have thought of that when you betrayed me, and decided to lay low and live with a low life woman." Haizaki purred "But she sure was delicious." He licked his lips.

"You bastard." I spat.

He chuckled with a low voice, and turned around, walking towards my burning house. I knew it was wrong, but I still had a small hope of him letting my family go. But I was wrong; he put his branding iron in the fire, heating it. He returned shortly after when the branding iron was glowing yellowy-red. He walked past me, stopping behind me. I couldn't see the man myself, but I bet he smirked, watching me helpless tied to a wooden cross. He ripped my shirt up, I felt his eyes burning gaze on my back.

Then he said "You took everything from me. So now I take everything from you"

I felt my flesh burning by the contact of the branding iron. Feeling how my skin burned, ripped itself into small black pieces and fell off. I screamed in pain, my eyes were as wide as they could be; it felt like my eyes would soon pop out from my sockets. Haizaki drew back his iron and tossed it on the ground. My cries had quieted down, I felt like my tears had dried out. I was beyond tired.

"At least you should feel honored I let you watch your family pass away." I heard Haizaki.

"Good night, Akashi." Haizaki chukled, after that I fainted.

* * *

I hung three days on the wooden cross, alone, staring at the house in front of me. The flames had died a long time ago, but the house was still standing, but it didn't look inviting though.  
I guess this is where I experienced a so called 'Near-death-experience'.

I woke up from this when I felt the rope around my arms get cut off and I fell harshly on the ground.  
I felt weak, my head was throbbing. I had no strength to stand up, so I crawled my way towards my house, dragging my legs behind me. I heard footsteps walking past me, walking into my house.  
The sound of his footsteps sounded like slapping, nothing like the sound of shoes clacking on the hard sand. The man was barefoot. I assumed it would be a man because women always tried to walk tidily, may it be a whore or not.

"Hey!" I tried to shout, but my voice was hoarse after all the screaming a couple days ago.  
I didn't want a stranger walking in my house, god knows what he could do. He could rob my house, even though it didn't have much to offer. He could rape my wife's corpse, if he was a sick psychopath. The west seemed to be filled with these psychopaths.

But before I even had made it halfway to the house, he came back out. I saw how he had a hard time to carry two corpses. So he was a sick bastard after all. I was about to scream, to yell at him with my hoarse voice, but before I had the time to do that. He had struggled his way towards me and gently put the corpses next to me.

"I am sorry. Bury?" he said with a monotone voice, his English was bad, but I understood.

His voice was light, but sounded emotionless, made me wonder how old he was.  
My sight was hazy, but I knew exactly who the black corpses were. My wife and child. I lifted my hand to caresses my wife's burnt face. As I touched her, the ashen color seemed to disappear and seemed to bring her back to life. She gasped for air.

"Akashi" she cried, she turned her head to look at me.

Her eyes seemed emotionless, dead.

"Don't worry dear, I won't let you die in vain. I will take revenge." I answered her.

She gave me a last smile, only now I noticed how her skin seemed to burn, returning to ash.

"I love you" I whispered, I lifted my hand away from her face, then she whimpered and went limp again.

"That was… something." The boy (or man?) who had been silent, decided to say something.

After that I lost consciousness.

* * *

I sniffed the air.

The faint smell of iron and… smoke.  
I snap my eyes open and sit up, looking around me I find myself in a small room made of stone. I laid on a small mattress made for a person smaller than me. There was a couple of leather bags hanging on the wall next to small bird skulls and herbs laid in small hand-made vases. The interesting thing was a painting of a skeleton with a heart in his stomach on leather pinned on the wall. That's when my eyes noticed something teal sitting next to me.

A young boy. He had teal blue hair, it shifted white in the light, it reminded me of the sky. He had a couple of feathers stuck in his hair, small pearls and a bird skull too. He was almost naked, if you don't count the colorful fabric around his waist covering his lower parts. Gray-blue tattoos painted on his chest and arms.

I noticed he was sitting in front of the painting of the skeleton. Two small plates were placed in front of him. One was filled with black sharp needles. The other was filled with blood.

The boy murmured in ancient language and pointed his tongue out. Taking a needle of the small plate and stuck it through his tongue and spat blood in the other plate. He had also pierced his legs with the needles, small amount of blood running down his legs. He turned around to look at me when he heard me shift on the mattress, trying to lean against the wall. My eyes met the most beautiful crystal blue eyes I had ever laid my eyes on.

"Ah… Good morning" the boy said.

"Good morning?" I answered, a bit confused.

I stared at the boy, the plate filled with blood and then the painting. I must have been doing that for a while because the boy seemed to notice this and shifted uncomfortably.

The boy hummed, trying to figure out how to explain it.

"Sacrifice." He pointed at the blood, then he tapped his hands two times and pointed at the painting on the wall "Mictlantecuhtli."

' _So the boy is sacrificing his blood to the god of Mictlantecuhlti…'_ I thought.

I nod in response. The boy gave me a small smile, somehow I thought I witnessed something rare.  
The boy then stood up and took the needles and the plate with blood and went outside.

' _Wait? Isn't Mictlantecuhlti the God of the Underworld and the dead? How the hell did he stumble upon Atztecs?'_

* * *

 **Soo…. Hopefully you enjoyed the prologue?  
Should I continue?**

 **Yea, Mictlantecuhlti is the God of the Underworld and the dead in Atztec religion, should I call it religion? Well it was kind of a culture. They believed they were created of gods bones and blood, thus blood was the holiest thing they could offer the gods.**

 **If you are wondering how Tetsuyas tattoos look like, look at the cover picture.**

 **I got this idea when I was watching Jonah Hax. But the plot won't be the same at all.  
Nor do I own Kuroko no basuke.**

 **It's going to be a Western, fantasy..ish...  
There will be more western style in the later chapters if this continues... so like... don't just get confused. Because yea. **

**Please do review.**


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